


Gold Stars and Bruised Knees

by jellyfishsodapop



Category: Captain America
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, WIP, mentions of Brock/Bucky, teacher/student au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishsodapop/pseuds/jellyfishsodapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a proper, upstanding 30 year old teacher at a posh school. Bucky is a spoilt, mischief making 15 year old student in his American history class. You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The kid was trouble from day one. Showing up late to the first day of tenth grade with a nonchalant attitude and having forgotten both the textbook and workbook for Mr Steve Roger's history class earned James Barnes the first of many negative marks in his school dossier. Adding to the fact that over the course of the next two weeks he was disruptive, arguementive, and completely unwilling to pay attention (on the days he bothered showing up) had given Steve ample reason to discipline him. Which didn't work out well. Assigning Mr Barnes a five page essay on the political structure of the early 19th century resulted in him not even showing up to class the following day. Later, Steve had found out that James had been caught sharing a smoke behind the swimming pool when they should have been in their respective 5th period classes. Other...things had been going on as well, the vice-principal too cross to go into detail which just left Steve curious. 

The next day, when Steve had asked James to stay after class, he was met with a cocky smirk and a drawled out 'Yes, sir' in a tone of voice no fifteen year old should know how to use. It was a thursday so Steve's was the last class of the day and for once, James was quietly paying attention, possibly more than the rest of the students. When those blue eyes were trained on the dry erase board instead of halfway to falling asleep or staring out the window and yearning to be free, Steve could tell there was more going on in that head than just being a troublemaking brat for the fun of it. 

Once the bell rang and the students had gone leaving the classroom empty save for Steve and his charge, Steve glanced up to see James slouched down in his seat and fidgetting with his pen, scribbling something in his notebook. Getting up from his desk, Steve walked down the aisle and stopped at the chair right in front of James' desk, turning it around before sitting down. This close, Steve could smell cigarette smoke clinging to the boy's school uniform, could see a bruise barely hidden by his shirt collar. The immediate concern that leapt to mind was an abusive home, but as Steve squinted over the rims of his glasses, it seemed like barely discernable teeth marks outlining the darkened skin.

"I suppose you're going to chide me about my performance and threaten me with suspension if I don't behave, right?" The words took Steve by surprise, not expecting his student to take the initiative to speak first. Eyes flicked up from where they were focused on the purple blemish to meet narrowed blue eyes. "And if I keep misbehaving, you'll have me expelled. I got the talk already, save your breath." James' bored expression came all too naturally, a product of disdain and the innate desire to annoy authority figures. Steve wouldn't let it get to him.

"I can't allow this kind of disrespect in my classroom, Mr Barnes. You're going to have to..."

"Bucky." There was that drawl again. Steve felt it more than he heard it. "No one calls me James, either. Just Bucky." The way he sucked his lower lip into his mouth had Steve staring, the sharp white edges of...Bucky's teeth sinking into the tender skin before letting it go, all rosy and damp. He knew he was caught out when those lips curved into a victorious little grin, Steve not letting himself get flustered by a child.

Meeting him halfway might get his student to concede, Steve reasoned, clearing his throat as he met the sassy little smirk with a stern set to his jaw and a glare from ice blue eyes. "As I was saying, Bucky, even if you haven't a care for yourself, at least have a care for others. Not everyone wants to be an idle layabout, confident that mummy and daddy's money will see them through life unscathed." Pushing his wire rims up the bridge of his nose, Steve hardened his gaze and leaned in closer to send the point home. "I'll have my eyes on you and if you disrupt class again, it's a detention. Three of those in a month and you're suspended. Understood?"

The exasperated eye roll came as no surprise, Bucky trying to play it off as nothing, as a mere annoyance. "Yeah, okay." A pause and then those blue eyes were steady, meeting Steve's gaze with one that could almost be a challenge. A little tilt to Bucky's head exposed more of the mark on his neck, the pale pink half moon of teeth marks now visible. There was no way Steve could hide the way his cheeks heated up once he realised just how Bucky came by the bruise, leaning back in the chair and taking a deep breath. "Or should I say 'yes, sir'?" 

"That would be the proper way to address a teacher, yes." Steve watched as Bucky lifted a hand to his neck, sliding his fingers under the collar and rubbing at the bruise. Bucky was taunting him, he was certain. "And you shouldn't even be smoking at your age, never mind where you got cigarettes from."

"Can I go now? Mummy will be so worried if her baby boy isn't home on time." Plush lips pursed slightly in a pout that should have aggravated Steve but only made his chest feel tight and his eyes glance away quickly. 

"As long as I'm clear on where we stand."

"Yes, sir."

"You're free to go. And I expect to see an improvement in your performance tomorrow."

Wasting no time in shoving his belongings into his backpack, Bucky stood and slung it over his shoulder with a noncommittal hum before sauntering towards to door. There was a moment of guilt when Steve let his eyes wander down the long line of Bucky's frame, pausing at the noticeable sway of slim hips, the way his uniform trousers fit better than they had any right to. It was wrong to look, wrong to even think of one of his students as a sexual being, but all Steve could imagine in that moment was how Bucky might have gotten that bruise, how those lips would be all wet and red from kissing, shirt off, hands roving across pale skin, the sounds Bucky would make when he... The door clicked shut, leaving Steve alone with his impure thoughts, blushing hot and guilty.


	2. Chapter 2

It was interesting to note during lunch when Steve was sharing a table in the teacher's lounge with Ms Romanova and Mr Banner that Bucky was doing fantastically in both of their classes, was an attentive student, and did all of his homework. Keeping his own opinion of Bucky to himself, Steve assumed that history just wasn't Bucky's favourite class and that was normal for every teacher. There was always one or two students every year who just didn't fathom the subject or would act out in only that one class while doing fine in others. The teachers would talk about particular students who were doing exceptionally well and those who were completely abysmal, exchanging notes on how they performed in other subjects to get a well rounded idea of each student. The possibility of offering some after hours tutoring wouldn't be amiss, once he cleared it with Mrs Barnes, naturally. All Bucky needed was some extra help and he'd be doing fine in no time, Steve was sure of it.

Friday meant that Steve had a free period after lunch which usually found him grading papers in his classroom or reading a book in the courtyard near the fountain. Today he decided on a change of scenery and headed for the field to take in the sunshine and maybe watch whatever Mr Barton was having his class do that day. Sitting under the tree with his book, Steve glanced up and saw they were playing rugby, shirts v skins. Looking at the chalkboard, skins were winning by a fair margin, a cheer going up as another goal was scored. What made Steve forget all about his book was the student who scored that goal and was getting clapped on the back, a dazzling grin on his face. One hand dragged through sweaty hair, pushing it out of his face, Bucky enjoying his moment as the scoreboard was updated. Pale golden skin glistened in the sun with hints of red blooming on his shoulders and back, Steve feeling his mouth go dry as he took in the sight of the muscular young body. It was entirely possible that Bucky got a pair of gym shorts a size too small just to show off his thighs, the sight of which had Steve internally chastising himself for. Tight blue fabric clung to narrow hips and red knee-high socks drew Steve's attention down to toned calves. Lacking the upper half of the gym uniform, Steve was treated to the sight of Bucky's torso, his jaw going slack when Bucky's hand slid down his neck to his chest, slipping through sweat before wiping it on his shorts. Glancing up, Steve knew he was busted well and proper when they made eye contact, Bucky giving him that smug little smirk again. 

Steve's face was buried in his book before Bucky could see the blush Steve knew was creeping up to his ears and down his neck, and there it stayed for the next eleven pages. It was a good thing Steve left his bookmark in place because not a single word registered in his mind because it was too busy chastising him for behaving more like a teenager than Bucky was. There was absolutely no reason a fully grown man and a teacher to boot should blush at the sight of a shirtless student, it was absurd. It wasn't Bucky that was a problem, it was Steve's own scandalous thoughts, something he would have to push from his mind completely. A ringing cheer went up and he looked over to the board, skins having defeated the shirts soundly. Closing his book after getting nothing read, Steve caught a glimpse of Bucky being patted on the shoulders, his hair ruffled, teammates congratulating him. When Bucky threw a glance over one shoulder and licked the sweat off his upper lip as they headed to the locker rooms, Steve swore under his breath and vowed to ignore those little wordless taunts that felt more like a subconscious seduction than anything else.

Things went surprisingly well for a week, Bucky managing to be orderly for most of the class period, but his grade was declining steadily. Steve decided to make the call to Mrs Barnes who was quick to defend her son's lapse, but agreed to have a meeting the following day.

"Mr Rogers, a pleasure to meet you." Elegant in both style and presence, Mrs Barnes was the image of poise as she greeted Steve with a confident handshake before taking the offered seat. The dark navy blue suit was no doubt custom made, the jacket and pencil skirt fitting her perfectly, accentuated by a dove grey silk shirt. Delicate pearls graced her throat and earlobes, the design antique yet timeless, speaking of old money and refined tastes.

Sitting behind the desk in his classroom, Steve pushed his glasses up and cleared his throat. "Thank you so much for coming in today. As you know, we do our very best to ensure that your child gets the education you expect for enrolling him here and if that means making the extra effort, we do so with success in mind." A serene nod and Steve continued. "It seems that Bucky, er... James has been experiencing a bit of a setback with history and my suggestion is to offer some tutoring. No more than an hour after school until he's caught up."

A smile graced her lips and she sighed softly, a trace of melancholy only for a second and it was gone. "The only one who ever called him James was his father, which explains why he's never responded to it since - my apologies Mr Rogers, I'm certain you have no interest in such trivialities. I enrolled Bucky at an all boys school to ensure he had some beneficial male role models after everything he's been through. If you think he needs tutoring then you have my approval. I'm sure Bucky won't be thrilled to be kept from his friends." A quiet laugh and she tilted her head, studying Steve for a moment. "I'm sure he'll be fractious at first, but be stern with him. He needs that and it's something I can't give him. I've never been very good at discipline which might be why he runs with -that- crowd." 

Steve had seen them in the mall on the weekends, at the cafe on the end of the high street, hanging around outside the nightclub they were all too young to get into. Hardly thugs, but they did present a particular image with their tight dark jeans and rumpled jackets and scuffed combat boots, hair artfully askew, eyeliner on a couple of them making them look androgynous and ethereal. "The sooner he gets his grade back on track, the sooner he can socialise with his mates again, Mrs Barnes. Thank you for agreeing to this, and now it's my duty to inform him that his afternoons got a little longer." They exchanged a good-natured chuckle and stood, perfectly manicured fingers smoothing down her skirt before she extended her hand. "Again, thank you for stopping by. It was an honour to meet you." As they shook hands, Steve noticed idly that the rock on her finger was probably worth his year's salary. The bell that signalled the end of lunch rang just as she left, Steve already mentally rehearsing how he would approach Bucky with the news.


	3. Chapter 3

"You what?"

"Your mother agreed to it and it's in your best interest."

"Did either of you ask for my opinion on this matter?"

"I'm afraid your opinion won't help your grade much."

A huff and Bucky slouched down in his chair, the weight of the world bowing his fifteen year old shoulders. Storms furied in eyes that slanted away and a muscle rippled Bucky's jaw, Steve's long-suffering sigh passing through the silence between them.

"The other teachers tell me you're doing fine in their classes. Mine is the only one you seem to be having trouble with. You're only late to mine, you only ditch mine... I might start taking it personally." The joke was either missed or ignored, Bucky resolutely not meeting Steve's eyes and glaring out the window instead. The laughter and shouts of other students as they left school grounds for the day was an extra twist to the knife currently lodged in Bucky's ego. It was clear that he felt betrayed, a conspiracy to ruin his life unfolding behind his back and perpetrated by his own mother of all people. Steve felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, but his job was to make sure that the coursework was learned and tests were passed otherwise it was a reflection on his abilities as a teacher. Taking pride in his career was important to him, wanting to do right by the next generation in his own little corner of the world.

"Look, it's only until we get your grade back up at least halfway and then you'll only need to return the day before quizzes and tests. Fair?" Bucky shrugged his shoulders and kicked at the chair in front of him. "I'll take that as a yes." Blue eyes swung forward, contempt and a barely concealed sneer marring the otherwise attractive face.

"Nothing about this is fair. Don't I have any choice in this?" The waver in Bucky's voice belied his defiant attitude and made him sound even younger.

"You have a choice in how you respond to it. But as far as being stuck in here with me for an hour, you'll just have to make the most of it. The more you apply yourself, the sooner you can go back to having your afternoons free." Defiance gave way to dejection, Bucky accepting his fate reluctantly.

Morose though he was, Bucky got through the current chapter the class was on and managed to get eight of the ten questions correct on the short quiz Steve gave him. It wasn't a struggle for him, not when it was just the two of them like this. Steve pondered the fact that Bucky performed better in a one-on-one situation while in the back of his mind, Mrs Barnes words tugged at him. No father figure and lack of proper discipline led Steve to believe that all Bucky needed was a firm hand and steady guidance. Though why he had chosen to misbehave only in Steve's class was a mystery.

Just as Steve was about to praise Bucky for a job well done and excuse him for the day, the door opened and another student peered in, eyes on Bucky expectantly. Bucky glanced up and held up a hand, fingers splayed and mouthing the words 'five minutes' or so it looked to Steve. "May I help you, Mr Rumlow?" 

Brock was an older boy, a senior who had a reputation for being in a rougher crowd. Intelligent and athletic, he would be considered a perfect student if it wasn't for some of his more objectionable proclivities, if the rumours were true. Probably where Bucky got those cigarettes from. Possibly even that bruise on his neck. 

"Sorry to interrupt Mr Rogers, I was just checking to see if my friend here was done." He stepped into the class and acknowledged Steve respectfully even though his demeanour was one of impatience.

"He is. I was just going to conclude our lesson and let him leave." A nod to Bucky and he started shoving his belongings into his backpack, eager to exit. "Good afternoon, Bucky. See you tomorrow in class." Mumbling a quick 'bye', Bucky was on his feet and at his friend's side, one of Brock's big hands coming up to grip Bucky's nape almost posessively. When the older boy leaned in close and pressed his nose against Bucky's temple to whisper something into his ear, Steve felt a stab of annoyance and he was sure it showed on his face when Bucky turned quickly to look over his shoulder. There it was again, that smirk curving Bucky's mouth like disobedience and looking like sin. When Bucky's hand snaked around Brock's waist just as the door shut behind them, anger bubbled up suddenly, Steve yanking his glasses off and throwing them to the desk before pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. He had no reason to feel that way, no right to be jealous of a relationship that was none of his business, but there Steve was feeling protective of Bucky all of a sudden. Even more disturbing was the urge to give him a stern talking to, tell him that Brock was a bad influence with his smoking and drinking and petty crimes. It wasn't his place though, he couldn't tell students who they could and couldn't hang out with and certainly had no say in what they did together unless it was harmful. Keeping an eye on them both was morally questionable, but Steve felt it was in Bucky's best interest, wanting to make sure Bucky didn't end up getting in trouble or getting hurt. Guilt by association, as it was. 

The image that pervaded Steve's thoughts for the drive home was that last look and the way Bucky leaned in close, that familiar hand on Brock's waist like a taunt. He imagined what they would be doing, Brock perhaps giving Bucky some of the whiskey he had stashed in his room, rough hands tugging at clothes and reddening pale skin, pushing Bucky down into his bed and wringing little noises from him as lips and teeth raised more bruises across his neck, his chest, his belly. By the time Steve got home, he had a pounding headache and wanted nothing more than a stiff drink.

By the next morning, Steve pushed those thoughts from his mind and approached the day fresh with his usual calm. As he walked into his classroom, Steve saw there were already a few students there, one of which was Bucky who was perched on his desk, feet in the chair as he talked to the boy who sat behind him. What shattered Steve's calm was the sight of a dark purple mark on Bucky's nape and the edge of another one hidden under his collar, paler finger-shaped marks on one side of his neck. All eyes went to Steve when his coffee hit the floor, the plastic lid flying off and spilling his drink everywhere.


	4. Chapter 4

As Steve stood in the teacher's lounge mourning the loss of his coffee from his favourite cafe and settling on the sub par machine brew, the only other thought racing through his mind was Bucky suffering at the hands of a cruel, abusive partner. If Bucky's behaviour around Brock was any indication though, there was no abuse, at least nothing unwanted. He went willingly, initiated the affectionate hold, and seemed happy. The marks told a different story, one that Steve had no business prying into, despite his curiosity.

The cleanup and procuring of another cup of coffee had taken up any downtime Steve otherwise would have had before class, the room now full and his briefcase still unopened on his desk. Other than that hitch in the morning, the period went uneventfully, much to Steve's relief. Before him, the classroom was silent as the students read the first three parts of the next chapter while Steve outlined what he was covering in the following discussion. 

A glance up from his work and everyone was immersed in their books, Steve's attention caught by someone fidgetting in his seat. Bucky, as circumstance would have it, seemed a bit restless as he shifted and yawned, fingers tapping softly against his desk before they went up to rub at the side of his neck. A gentle touch at first and then they pressed under his collar, Bucky sucking his lower lip between his teeth and biting down on it, the corners of his mouth curving up as his eyes fluttered closed. Unable to look away, Steve watched with fascination as Bucky dug his fingers into one of the bruises and his jaw went slack, lips parting slightly, rosy pink staining his cheeks. When Bucky's other hand slid down under his desk, Steve felt heat wash over his entire body, Bucky pressing into his lap and shifting again, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. 

A dozen images flashed through Steve's mind, all of them shameful and dirty and disturbingly vivid. The sharpest scene played out with Bucky on all fours, naked and trembling, Brock kneeling up behind him and closing his hand around Bucky's neck, shoving his head down against the bed and squeezing, holding him immobile. A wicked smile shone on Brock's rugged features, his other hand stroking gently over the crest of Bucky's hip before fingers sank in, clutching tight. Narrow hips pushed up against the curve of Bucky's ass, Bucky's plaintive whimper loud in his mind, a choked off 'Please!' and Steve was shaken from his reverie. What unsettled him even more than his depraved imagination was the fact that Bucky was staring right at him, those incandescent blue eyes locked onto Steve's face almost as if he knew exactly what was going on in Steve's head. 

Sweat prickled his skin, Steve's shirt sticking to his back as he looked away, feeling himself blush all the way up to his ears. There was no book to hide behind this time, instead all Steve could do was duck his head down and stare at the partially written outline. He had to get under control, there was still a half hour left and he'd be damned if he'd let this brat unnerve him. Giving the class their five minute notice to finish reading if they hadn't already, Steve scribbled out the rest of the discussion topics and composed himself. Bucky wasn't the only one needing discipline and Steve was going to have to work diligently to keep his own thoughts professional and decent.

When the last bell rang, Steve could feel his blood pressure spike momentarily. That little incident during first period haunted him all day, invading his thoughts at the worst possible times. When Bucky sauntered into class a good fifteen minutes later, he was a sight. Hair rumpled and his tie loose, jacket slung over a shoulder, the top two buttons of his uniform shirt undone and showing off a brand new bruise blooming on his throat. Red patches that could only be stubble burn graced a jaw, lips crimson and slightly puffy, pupils wider than they should be at mid afternoon.

"Took your time getting here." Bucky just gave Steve that saucy smirk before sliding into his usual seat.

"Sorry, I got caught up in a conversation." Sorry was the last thing Bucky looked. Aroused maybe, but repentant definitely not. 

"Perhaps next time your conversations can wait until afterwards, hmm? Now, let's go over the quiz from today. You did well yesterday, but..." Steve held up Bucky's paper, the red 'F' like an accusation. "You want to explain to me why?"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and toyed with a strap on his bag, not meeting Steve's eyes. "You're going to have to do a lot better, really apply yourself if you want to get a passing grade this quarter. I don't want to have to trouble your mother again. Maybe she'd be interested in what you waste your time doing instead of showing up to your tutoring in a punctual manner."

That got his attention, Bucky's eyes flicking up and going wide before he composed himself, rolling a shoulder with practised ease. "She won't care. As long as I'm home for dinner, she doesn't give a damn what I do." Bucky licked his lips and tipped his chin up, giving Steve a good look at rosy pink teeth marks on pale skin. "Or who I do."

Steve didn't believe that for a second but he let it go. What riled him was the fact that Bucky wasn't just a wise ass kid with an attitude, he wasn't just being contrary for the sake of antagonising as many adults as possible. He was flaunting his sexuality, showing off his body, displaying the marks that indicated promiscuous behaviour. The thing that was truly unsettling was that he was doing it just to Steve. Anger simmered just below, Steve could feel it pushing through the discomfort of his internal realisation. With his jaw set firm, Steve shot Bucky a glare that said he did not approve and would not even address the subject further.

"Page one hundred twelve. We're starting fresh and you're going to take an extended version of the quiz I made just for you." Bucky scowled and didn't move a muscle. "You might have all day to waste, but I don't. Book out, get reading." Steve expected some dissent, but he didn't expect Bucky to just grab his bag, stand up and walk to the door, wingtips tapping a fractious pace along the floorboards. On his feet like a shot, Steve was at the door just as Bucky opened it, his hand flat against it and slamming it shut again, Bucky recoiling back in shock and bumping against Steve. His backpack fell to the floor when Bucky flinched away, Steve barely noticing as he slammed his other hand against the door, caging Bucky between. Turning to face Steve with a look of worry, Bucky pressed his back up against the door, Steve enjoying that fleeting show of power a bit too much. It was nice getting one up on this little punk, shallow as it may be, and Steve felt like earning some respect, even if it was this petty thing based on fear.

"That wasn't very polite of you, Mr Barnes. In fact it was very rude. I don't stand for that level of uncivil behaviour on my watch and you're going to make sure it never happens again." Where anger lashed moments ago, now settled agitation of a peculiar nature. Against the door, Bucky was visibly shaken, his body taut and unmoving save for the laboured breaths. Moving incrementally closer, Steve let his voice drop a notch, his gaze steady and unblinking. "Am I clear?" 

At first, Steve thought it was panic etched on Bucky's face, but when Bucky made a breathless little sound halfway between a gasp and a whimper, it was Steve's turn to be shocked. Bucky's jaw was slack, lips parted just enough to see the pink tip of his tongue caught between teeth, face slightly flushed, wide blue eyes darting between Steve's unwavering gaze and his tightly drawn lips. 

"Y...yes, sir." There was no sass in his tone this time, Bucky's voice almost rough as he panted out the words. If this was any other situation, anywhere but here, Steve would identify all of Bucky's physical reactions as arousal. There was a dark, guilty part of Steve that wondered in Bucky was getting hard, if this display of authority turned him on. It would certainly explain a few things. 

Lifting his hands from the door and stepping back, Steve felt guilt gnaw at him for thinking such things, for using his position of power to intimidate a student for his own sick amusement, for a cheap show of dominance. Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath before meeting Steve's eyes again, hips pushing from the door first, the rest of his body following sinuously. Turning away and clearing his throat, Steve spoke through gritted teeth as he walked back to his desk. "Have a seat, Bucky. Enough time has been wasted." 

On the drive home, Steve was tormented by his own behaviour, cursing at himself for letting that brat get the best of his temper, tormented by Bucky's behaviour, wondering if the kid even knew what he was doing, how his body betrayed him in subtle ways. The most incriminating thing of all was Steve's own imagination, supplying him with unbidden images of that pretty face contorted in pleasure, pale skin bared, hands and lips tracking every inch. What had Steve stumbling into a cold shower at three in the morning were the dreams that had him doing all of those things and so much more to that lithe young body, Steve's name on Bucky's lips, moaned, begged, screamed out. Standing with both hands braced against the tiles until he was shivering violently, icy droplets pattering over his shoulders, his back, Steve couldn't wash away the fact that it got him off in his sleep hard enough to wake him up.


End file.
